


Maybe IDK

by WildnessBecomesYou



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/F, Feeling Awkward In Churches, Songfic, mostly fluffy, possibly inaccurate depictions of christianity, roadtrip conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26993605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou
Summary: Although I guess if I knew tomorrowI guess I wouldn't need faithI guess if I never fellI guess I wouldn't need graceMaybe IDK, Jon Bellion
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	Maybe IDK

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a heads up, I will be slowing down significantly here. I have two high-intensity/concentration fics I'm going to work on, and then the long fic (unless I get or am fed more ideas). So there may be a day or so between a few fics/chapters. Bear with me <3 
> 
> So while this song is largely about (the Christian) God, something spoke to me about it being applicable to our girls, too. And here we are! It's a gorgeous song, and the album is stunning too. "Hand of God" is one of the most earth-shattering songs I have ever heard. You can listen to Maybe IDK[ here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLYObm5xNy8&ab_channel=JonBellionVEVO)
> 
> I put the ladies in a Catholic church for part of this fic, but I've gotta admit, I haven't been to a mass since my month of three funerals two years ago, and while parts of the rosary are burned into my memory from that time, I know...basically nothing about Catholic masses. To be honest, before those funerals, I couldn't bring myself to set foot in a place of worship unless I was performing for the service. Wasn't raised Christian, only went with my grandparents (and one time my grandma tried to have me exorcised), there's weird generational interactions with the Church, yadda yadda...
> 
> Anyways! If you're curious about the route that our girls are taking, you can follow them [here!](https://goo.gl/maps/3mbauXH7x94VGeVZ6)

_I wonder why I get paranoid when I'm high_  
_I wonder why I say yes to everyone in my life_  
_I wonder why I can't run that fast in my dreams_  
_I wonder why I feel short when I know my money's tall_  
_I wonder why I miss everyone and I still don't call_  
_I wonder why I can't run that fast in my dreams_

_Although I guess if I knew tomorrow_  
_I guess I wouldn't need faith_  
_I guess if I never fell_  
_I guess I wouldn't need grace_  
_I guess if I knew His plans_  
_I guess He wouldn't be God, God, God_

_So maybe I don't know, maybe I don't know_  
_Maybe I don't know, maybe I don't know_  
_But maybe that's okay_  
_Maybe that's okay, maybe that's okay_  
_Maybe I don't know, maybe I don't know_  
_But maybe that's okay_

_I wonder why I feel emptiness and I sing these blues_  
_I wonder why I feel hopelessness when I watch the news_  
_I wonder why I can't find my voice in my dreams_  
_I wonder why they say hate your brother and hide your gold_  
_I wonder why we all fear the things that we might not know_  
_I wonder why I can't find my voice in my dreams_

_Although I guess if I knew tomorrow_  
_I guess I wouldn't need faith_  
_I guess if I never fell_  
_I guess I wouldn't need grace_  
_I guess if I knew His plans_  
_I guess He wouldn't be God, God, God_

_So maybe I don't know, maybe I don't know_  
_Maybe I don't know, maybe I don't know_  
_But maybe that's okay_  
_Maybe that's okay, maybe that's okay_  
_Maybe I don't know, maybe I don't know_  
_But maybe that's okay_

_All this shit, I can't explain_  
_Is it by design or random fate, yeah_

_So maybe I don't know, maybe I don't know_  
_Maybe I don't know, maybe I don't know_  
_But maybe that's okay_  
_Maybe that's okay, maybe that's okay_  
_Maybe I don't know, maybe I don't know_  
_But maybe that's okay_

Mildred didn’t grow up going to church. 

Gwendolyn did, says it was a Sunday tradition. “We’d go to Saint Mary’s and then drive across the bridge until we got to the nice, quiet part of Hammonasset beach. Up near the point, where the water gets deep and unpredictable. I learned to swim on Sunday afternoons, and then we’d have a lunch so big that it would last all the way to Monday morning.” 

She says it with such a fond look in her eye that Mildred can’t help but smile. She gets so animated, her hands spinning circles and webs in the air until all Mildred can do is follow along and watch her eyes sparkle. 

They stop in San Diego on Saturday night, in a motel that’s comfortable enough but doesn’t ask questions about why two women don’t need two rooms. 

Sunday morning is quiet; they wake just before the sun and watch it rise as they tidy the room behind them, leave no trace, sip on the terrible coffee from the reception desk and eat the hard-boiled eggs Trevor had pressed into Mildred’s hands with tears in his eyes and “you keep these relatively chill, I don’t want the two of you to get sick,” on his lips. 

They hit the road. 

Gwendolyn spots a building from the passenger side and sits up a little taller. “Mildred,” she murmurs, and Mildred follows her finger. 

It’s a church. Gwendolyn has a sparkle in her eye and after their meager breakfast Mildred can’t deny her. So she pulls off the road and makes her way towards the arched roof and tower with it’s paper-thin cross. Gwendolyn straightens the suit she’s wearing, reaches over and fixes Mildred’s collar and the scarf covering her head. 

“It won’t be fun,” Gwendolyn admits, “but it’ll be good for us.”

Mildred swallows. She follows Gwendolyn inside. 

The inside of the church is stunning. It’s small enough that it doesn’t frighten Mildred, and it’s lit up in the early morning sun with the colors of the stained glass. There are figures in the front backed by blue, and an altar draped over with a purple cloth; white roses and pink stargazer lilies surround each ivory figure. 

Gwendolyn dips her hand into a basin, crosses herself with _Father, Son, Holy Ghost,_ on her lips. She turns to move and Mildred panics, dunks her fingers in the basin. 

The water is cold. It seems like it goes straight through her fingers, but it smells like the ocean, and Mildred is too winded to do anything other than mutely cross herself and scuffle after Gwendolyn. 

She wishes she could reach for Gwendolyn’s hand. 

The church is mostly empty, pre-mass worshippers dotting the pews. Mildred guesses the real activity won’t start for another hour. 

Gwendolyn kneels briefly by a pew, her left hand braced back to help lift her when she’s done. She crosses herself again with her right hand— _Father, Son, Holy Ghost_ — and then rises, slides into the pew and sits. Mildred copies her motions, though she wobbles a bit when she goes to stand. 

A quiet moment passes between them. Mildred feels the cold from the wooden pew seeping through the fabric of her dress, chilling the backs of her thighs. But Gwendolyn leans over to her, whispers, “We don’t have to stay long. Just let me go through the motions.” 

So Mildred does. She watches Gwendolyn pull a book from the pocket of the pew, fold out the miniature wooden bench, open to a page with the date on it. Gwendolyn kneels and Mildred wants to stop her— there’s no cushion, she’ll hurt her knees. But Gwendolyn has her head bowed, the scarf around her head shining in the stained light, and she’s mouthing through some prayer with her hands tucked beneath the spine of the prayer book. 

_Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb—_

_The Assumption of Mary, the Mother of God, into heaven—_

_To thee do we send up our sighs—_

Mildred watches her, reaches for her elbow when she eases herself back up onto the pew. Gwendolyn shoots her a smile, spends a moment flipping pages and then quietly humming a tune. The book goes back into the pockets, and Mildred thinks they might be done— she’s hoping they might be, she’s starting to get quite cold— when Gwendolyn eases herself back down to kneeling. 

“Gwendolyn,” Mildred starts to whisper, hoping she’ll at least let her cushion the little bench.

“It’s alright,” Gwendolyn smiles, “just let me pray a moment.” 

Mildred does. She turns her attention back to the front of the church, the altar backed by pillared candles and a gilded cross. She realizes, almost with embarrassment, that the wall has stars painted on it, hundreds of them dotting the blue canvas like checkers on wool. She tries not to feel caged in by the enormous columns that frame what she thinks is the Mother Mary holding the baby Jesus. 

The woman is supposed to look maternal, but Mildred finds her imposing. And she’s not looking at her son, despite the baby boy gazing at her face with a sort of reverence Mildred thinks is usually held for him. 

She isn’t quite sure why that bothers her. 

Rays of light spill out against the Madonna in the star-checkered blue, emerging from the stained-glass image of Jesus on his cross, escorted to Heaven by his Father and a dove. 

Mildred loses herself in the blue of those illuminated clouds, and by the time she shakes herself enough to think about the horrors of being nailed to a cross, Gwendolyn is easing herself back to sitting. Mildred reaches out to help and Gwendolyn squeezes her knee fondly. There’s another quiet moment this way, looking into each other’s eyes, Gwendolyn’s warmth slowly seeping back into Mildred’s bones. 

“Are you ready?” Gwendolyn asks, and Mildred nods.

They rise, and Gwendolyn does the little kneel-and-cross facing the altar again as she slides out of the pew. Mildred feels an uncomfortable warmth spread over her cheeks, wishes she could slip her arm into Gwendolyn’s and hide her face. 

They pause at the basin again on the way out, and then Gwendolyn’s hand is at the small of her back and they’re walking under the sign that says _St Anne Roman Catholic Church_. 

When they climb in the car, there’s quiet for a long while. Gwendolyn rolls her window down after a few minutes, staring out towards the bay, the map rustling in her hands and the wind. Mildred glances over to her frequently; she doesn’t look sad, or guilty, or joyful even. She just looks at rest.

Mildred wonders if this is what she looks like when she’s asleep in Gwendolyn’s arms. 

Mildred sweeps the scarf off her own head, shakes her hair a little loose before she asks, “Do you still go to church often?” 

Gwendolyn turns towards her with a small smile, braces her arm against the windowsill on her side. She props her head up with that hand. “Not really. Never found a parish I liked enough to stick with it when I moved to California. Mostly I go on the big days, or when I really need it.” 

Mildred swallows her nerves. “Do you…want to try finding one? A— parish? When we get to Mexico?” 

Gwendolyn chuckles, holds her free hand out. Mildred reaches back, and when their fingers meet, Gwendolyn squeezes fondly. “I think I’d have a lot of difficulty understanding the sermons.” Mildred lets a smile slip through. “No, I think I’ll do just fine without.”

“Okay,” Mildred says. She slips her hand away from Gwendolyn’s and back to the wheel. 

Gwendolyn pauses for a moment. “None of your…placements ever took you to church?” 

“No,” Mildred responds, “no, I… I don’t think most of them went to church at all. If they did I was left at home.”

“Oh.”

It sounds wistful, a little sad. Mildred doesn’t want her to be sad. “Does it help?"

“Church?”

“Yes,” she nods. “With all the uncertainties. All the things that happen to you.”

Gwendolyn hums for a moment. “I don’t know that it helps. Asking God why I got cancer, or why my sister hasn’t returned my letters in years, or why all those awful things have happened to you, won’t give me an answer. And in all honesty if it did I probably wouldn’t like it.” She ends the sentence on a small chuckle, but picks back up the serious nature of the conversation. “But it— I think as a kid, I learned I wouldn’t always have the answers. Things wouldn’t always make sense, not in the moment. Senseless things wouldn’t be under my control but neither would the really wonderful, stunning things.” 

Mildred swallows around the tightness in her throat. “I don’t think I understand.”

Gwendolyn folds the map up, tucks it under her thigh. “Do we have shoes?”

“What?” Mildred glances at her, brow furrowed. 

Gwendolyn smiles back. “Other than the shoes you’re wearing, do we have shoes?”

Mildred blinks at the road for a moment, focuses on the hum of the wheels. “I…yes.”

“How do you know?”

Mildred huffs. “We packed them.” 

“Have you checked the bags since we put them in the trunks yesterday morning?” 

“No?”

“Then how do you know we have shoes?”

“Gwendolyn—“ 

She chuckles at Mildred, leans towards her and brushes a soothing hand down her arm. “You don’t know, not for sure, but you have faith that they’re there.”

Mildred considers this for a moment. “And the faith helps you.” 

It’s not exactly a question, but Gwendolyn shrugs. “I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I know it will come. I know I have hope that it will be good—“ she reaches for Mildred’s hand again, and Mildred eagerly takes it. “And that you will be there.”

Mildred smiles, and her heart flares out in her chest. She doesn’t say anything— she’s not sure what to say. Gwendolyn lets the silence sit for a moment, holding Mildred’s hand in both of hers. “I don’t know why my life has happened to me. I don’t know why yours has happened to you— and believe me, I wish it had been different. I wish the world had shown you more kindness.”

“Gwendolyn,” Mildred murmurs. She squeezes around one of Gwendolyn’s hands, hoping she’ll move on.

They can’t change the past, she knows that. Wishes mean very little in the real world. 

“I do know our lives have led us to each other, and I’m grateful for that,” Gwendolyn finishes. 

It makes Mildred smile. “Me too.” 

Gwendolyn lifts Mildred’s hand in both of hers, presses a kiss to her knuckles. She scoots a little closer, map forgotten on the floor of the car, and rests their entwined hands on her thigh. 

“I don’t have to know what tomorrow will bring,” Gwendolyn says softly, and when Mildred looks at her she’s met with eyes softer than the newest downy fur. “It’s not under my control. But if you’re by my side, I’m alright with that.” 

Mildred feels her shoulders loosen— she hadn’t realized she’d been holding them so tensely. She takes a breath, lets the sea air wash over them both, turns her head to press a kiss to Gwendolyn’s forehead as the older woman leans down to rest against her shoulder. 

“I love you,” Mildred breathes, because she can barely say it any louder. It takes up too much of her to allow for anything more than a whisper. 

“Exactly,” Gwendolyn smiles. “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it, even though it's uh. Very different from what I usually do. Drop me a line below-- try to have some patience with me! :) <3


End file.
